


Value at Risk

by Attorney C (arh581958)



Series: Professor 'Verse [2]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternative First Meeting, First Meeting, M/M, Trevor's MathTest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-04-25 14:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4964131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Attorney%20C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike’s your regular old university student. He gets good grades, gets high, and sometimes gets fooled into taking tests for his friends (aka Trevor and his stupid math test). He is also Professor Specter’s TA. Life’s just about to get interesting. </p><p>(Or: Suits re-imagined as a University!AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am done with my midterms! So I decided to reward myself by writing this. It continues off from the first story. I didn't expect such nice responses. So please, I hope you enjoy this too. More of my financial jargon! 
> 
> **Value At Risk** \- _A statistical technique used to measure and quantify the level of financial risk within a firm or investment portfolio over a specific time frame._

There was a long queue of students sitting outside the wooden benches in the hall. For a moment, Mike doubted his directional skills. He normally didn't go inside this building. Sure, he's passed in on a couple of times when he walked to the Quad but never inside. Primarily because he did not have a reason to be loitering around the Finance Building. It wasn't even his major!

"You must be Mike" the woman says without looking up when he enters. Mike opens his mouth to speak but she holds up her hand with her eyes still glued to her computer screen. "Shh. No." she says, double-clicking something with her mouth. "Harvey will be with you in a minute. Just..." She makes an _ah-ha_ face and the printer beside her noisily gets into action. He stands there, awkwardly, baseball cap in hand across his stomach, while she prints her documents. He eyes her desk, reading her bass nameplate: Donna Paulsen, Secretary.

Donna, as her plate states, finishes her printing. She stuffs the fresh print-outs into a plain pale yellow folder, fastening it with a small black bull clip. She finally looks up, catching his eyes the moment she does. It makes Mike slink further into his seat. "You" she says, pointing an accusatory finger at him and motions him closer. "Takes these inside but don't look. I'll ring you in." Mike follows. There's a second door against an opaque frosted glass wall. It's slightly ajar and he hesitates if he should tap on it.

He looks back. Donna is shooing him away, already immersed in a new task.

"Excuse me, sir?" he voices softly, nudging the door with his finger until it gives. He spots the man inside, sitting behind an intimidating wooden desk, back turned to him. "Professor Specter?" he tries a second time, slipping inside and closing the door behind him. A hand shoots out into the air, pointer raised to shush him. The man speaks, hushed and low, inaudible from Mike's distance. Mike waits it out until the phone clicks-off.

"I see that you came." the older man orders. He spins his chair around and folds his fingers over his crossed knee, leaning back against his chair slightly. He is without a doubt the same man from this morning. He has lost his jacket, which now hangs on the back of his leather chair, but it no less intimidating in a waistcoat and time. "Take a seat, Mr. Ross"

Mike complies. He trudges over to the chair across the desk and sits down in faux-nonchalance. "You have my Student ID. I can't enter buildings without it." He says with as much calmness as he can muster. He knows that the man can see right through his false bravado and it only makes him want to mask it further. "Here" he says, sliding the folder over the desk like a barkeep would a pint of beer.

The man traps it with a large palm before it eases off the table. "Did you look?" he asks. There's no taunt or malice behind his words, at least none that Mike can hear. He opens the folder, licking his thumb, and makes a show of going through its contents.

"No" Mikes shakes his head.

A thick eyebrow goes up. "Not the least bit curious, Mr. Ross?"

"It's Mike" Mike says and shakes his head again. "Your secretary told me not to."

Something like a smile or a smirk paints the man's lips. He is obviously finding this entertaining. "You choose to follow instructions now..." there's a pause "Mike?" This time, the taunt is obvious. The sheer smugness of it is irritating. Mike knows he is in the wrong but having his mistake being rubbed in his face is like being punched in the gut while being tied to a tree--it leaves him wide open with no opportunity to defend himself.

"You don't get to judge me. And don't act all high and mighty." Mike bites out, hands clenching. "Look. We made a bet and I won. You said that you would turn the other way and file Trevor's exam. So give me back my ID and I can go in peace." His outburst seems to spark something in the other man. But it's not what he wants. "Fuck off, dude. I don't need your pity!"

"Dude?" Harvey spits out the word like it was abhorrent on his taste buds. "Who I am is the man who can make or break your college career. I caught you cheating on a final exams test because you weren't supposed to take the damn test in the first place. You have no right to speak to me that way because I just saved your ass. So you better give me a good goddamn reason why you did it."

Mike jumps back in his seat and pales. He grips the side of the chair so hard that he knows his baseball cap is already a crumpled mess in his fingers. The man's chocolate brown eyes are burning with unleashed fury. It drives fear into Mike without the man even lifting off his stupid seat. "I--I need the money for this Semester. I need to pay my overdoes balances from last time or I won't be able to take my classes."

"Bull-shit." Harvey grits out, baring his teeth. "I want the whole fucking truth or I swear to god that I will have you expelled by tomorrow. Don't test me, Mike."

"Okay. Okay!"Mike cannot take the intensity of the man's gaze. He averts his eyes. "I used last term's tuition to get my Grammy into a home. Since I started out school, in the dorms, there isn't anyone else to take care of her. So I put her in a home. I blew the tuition money on the down payment and I got a loan to pay the two-months advance. I need to pay or I'll blow my scholarship too." He says but even to him, his reason sounds weak. He shrinks because he's going to lose his scholarship, he's going to lose his degree, and he's lose any fighting chance that he has to sustain Grammy's home. He's screwed.

"How much money did you need?"

"Twenty-five thousand dollars."

Harvey flops the folder on his the desk and pushes it aside. He leans over. "Here's the deal. I'll _lend_ you the money. Up front, 2% simple-interest based on the current principal per annum. 18 month grace period from the time of your graduation. But in exchange you'll work for me as my teaching assistant. You will work for me three-days in a week, negotiable once you've submitted your class schedule along with your other documents. You'll take notes of my lectures, prepare for my lectures, and make sure that my lectures are in conducted properly. Capiche?"  

Mike's lips twitch. "The Godfather, seriously?"

"It's Italian but not necessarily from the movie." Harvey throws his head back and honest-to-god laughs. "It's an offer you can't refuse. What do you say, Mike?"

Mike answers back with his own version of embarrassed-but-thankful-yet-disbelieving chuckle. "I won't break your heart, Professor. I promise."

Harvey just smirks before shooting him away. "Now go. Donna will give you a list of what you'll need to bring in tomorrow. I'll see you at three." He watches, in feign disinterest as the kid scampers of the chairs and darts out of his office. He takes the folder from the side of his desk, scanning it again. Micheal James Ross, it read in the top left corner with a 2x2 picture of the boy who just left. Curiosity had gotten the best of him. But who cares? Jessica was egging him to take a TA and all his interview have been boring.

" _Harvey_ " Donna's voice crackles from the intercom. It a mix between teasing and cautious.

"I just removed a stone from my shoe. Tell the others to scram. I'll email Jessica that I found my new teaching assistant." Harvey says, firing up his laptop and opening his email.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented in the previous chapter. Value at Risk is now the second story of the series. Please enjoy the VaR-universe!

In Pearson-Hardman University, the Teaching Assistant program was something of a privilege. The school boasts of its top-tier professors, Nobel laureates, and internally published authors. They did not limit students within the confines of their listed majors but rather encouraged a multi-disciplinary education and further specialization within their chosen field.  Each year, the senior faculty members are given the opportunity to select their own personal Teaching Assistance, in a mentoring of sorts to develop their skills as an educator and help the student's future career.

Mike enters the Finance building, at three-twelve in the afternoon, internally proud that he wasn't as lost as the last time. His Calculus Professor has run-over the time because of another long algrbriac equations which they should have already finished but still hadn't because most people had not finished the practice sets. Then he had to drop by the registrar's office which was a block away from his building to get his transcript documents stamped and notarized.

"Mike, Mike Ross?" a girl, voluptuous, brunette, with heels that look like they could double as  needles, greets him. He nods at her blankly, hand poised above the doorknob to Harvey's offfice.  She smiles, friendly-like, but there's clear sarcasm in her eyes. She gives him a brief but critical once over before extending her hand. "My name is Rachel Zane. I'll be giving you your orientation. You're Professor Spector's new TA, correct?"

"Yes, I'm here to see him."

She just cocks out her hip, and raises her eyebrow. "I know and you're late. It's three-thirteen, not three."

"But I..." she raises he hand up at him, index finger pointed in his direction. Slowly, like she would a child, she sways it from side to side.

"Stop talking." she says. When Mike opens his mouth to agree, her eyes simply narrow. He nods instead. "Good. Welcome to the Pearson-Hardman TA programme. I've been instructed to give you your orientation so shut up and pay attention."

"I--uh--wow a slightly less scary version of Donna." He mumbles under his breath. He obviously hears him because her eyebrow lifts up all the way to her hairline. There's a half-bite on her lips like she's waiting for him to continue but he doesn't. So she turns around and walks away without waiting for him to follow her.

"I'll take that as a compliment. Keep up." she says, not bothering to see if he can actually catch-up. Mike scrambles after her and she hands him a fresh notepad and a uniball pen. "I have faculty assessment to summarize so I'll make this quick. You better listen because, like Donna, I hate to have to repeat myself. Got it?"

The tour is over before Mike can fully comprehend that it begins. Rachel leads him to the third floor, into a room that looked like a more sophisticated version of a modern-day dungeon with cubicles that could barely fit a single person. "This" she says pointing to the room at large "is your new home." she walks to a the second cubicle in the middle of the room "this" she continues, dropping the folders she was previously carrying. "is you. Professor Spector want these done before you see him today."

She leaves, looking every bit like he should thank her for leaving a monumental stack of papers on his new desk. Mike groans, removing his old weathered messenger bag and dropping it to the floor. As soon as Rachel's roast brown hair disappears around the corner, the wolf-calls start. "Looks like we have a new puppy in the bullpen." one of the other TA's call-out, he's the one with curly brown hair sitting in the corner.

Mike tries his best not to pay attention as more noise float above him. He opens takes a good long look at the papers left for him--preliminary review papers, in essay format. He's torn between being thankful that it was type-written because he does not have to worry about understanding the handwriting, and dying inside because each paper submitted at least two-pages worth of text. He skims through the top-most paper, quickly eyeing the grade level. He curses inwardly when he realizes that it was a subject he hasn't taken.

"Okay there, rookie?" a voice pops from above him. Mike lifts his head automatically. It's a stout man with a round face, a receding hairline, and teeth that rival Buggs Bunny. He pales. The exact description in his mind coincided with Trevor's tyrant of an accounting professor. "Who might you be? This cubicle was vacant when I did my morning rounds."

"Mike, uhm, Michael Ross"

The man, Professor Litt if Mike guessed right, pops something into his mouth that appears suspiciously like half a tub of breath mints and proceeds to chew noisily with an open mouth. The small white candies are crushed in his mouth, turning into goo, with stray chucks falling into the papers that Mike was supposed to be grading. Mike hides his frown and disgust, praying to god that his subtle move backwards goes unnoticed. Louis Litt doesn't seem to notice.

"And just who exactly brought you into the lion's den, pup?" He asks, pompous and proud. Mike figures that it's a deliberate puff out of his wide chest.

"Does that make you Mufasa in the analogy?" Mike says without thinking. The words have already left his mouth before he can stop it. Shit, he scolds himself internally. Shit, shit, shit. He is so screwed when the rest of the room bursts out in unabashed laughter and chuckles. He slinks back into his uncomfortable, squeaky, rolling desk chair. He braces himself for the on-coming assault, defences at a ready.  

Professor Litt's face grows steadily red like a kettle threatening to burst from the heat. He opens his mouth, white candy sticking in the valleys between his teeth.

"I think Ed will be more appropriate in this scenario." Harvey cuts in before the shorter man can speak. "That later" he orders, pointing to the papers on Mike's desk. Then he hands another folder, thick but not as thinner than the previous files combined. "This now."

He nods minutely towards Mike before turning back to Louis. "Quoting your favourite Disney movie, Louis?" He taps on the siding and beckons Mike to follow. "Come one cub, I'll take you the real lion's den. Not the Hyena pits."

"Long live the King" Mike mutters under his breath. He takes the messy files that were scattered on his desk, scooping them up into his arms in one glide, then snatches his messenger bag from the floor. He'll do them at the dorm so he can study tomorrow.  

Harvey turns with an expression between annoyed and teasing. "The Lion King, really?" he says with a laugh, rumbling through the hall way.

They left a red-faced Louis, surrounded by a sault of TAs who were white-lipped with holding their laughter. He takes the pen and paper which Mike left on the table, and pockets the items. "Get back to work!" he shouts on the top of his lungs. His faux-suave walks staggers. "I'll catch that stupid mutt, when daddy's not there to protect him." he mumbles to himself.  

"H--Harvey. You know I'm not..." Mike stammers, struggling to follow Harvey's long-legged pace. Harvey stops and Mike has enough instinct to avoid smacking against the older man directly. "Hey watch it!" he curses when he trips against his own two feet and drops the files to the floor.

Harvey turns around with an annoyed expression. "I thought I said to leave that."

"You said when not where. I'll get to this later _after_ the thing you're bringing me to." Mike snaps. He ducks into a crouch, frantically gathering up the materials on the dark mauve tiles. The other man scoffs but says nothing. "Where are you taking me anyway?"

The elevator doors ding. "Client" Harvey says without explanation.

"And what does that have to do with me?" Mike asks.

"You get to read that, summarize, and answer questions if I forget something." And before Mike can open his mouth to complain, Harvey turns around and looks him straight in the eye. "Fail and I am hauling your ass to Louis along with your friend's exam papers."

Mike resigns himself to the task. He slumps back against the back-wall of the elevator and starts flipping through the file. He speed reads over the pages, like he does during final exams, and finished it before they exit the building. "There are stock statistics. Why would you need these?"

Harvey actually stops at the question. "Yes, I know what they are. Or else I wouldn't be a professor now would I?" he says stiffly. "What I need you to do is read them. Because you obviously do not know a bad investment from a good one. So read up, we're meeting her at the Chilton."

"I've read it." Mike complains, thrusting back the folder to Harvey as he struggles to stuff the exams into his bag. "If you don't believe me, you can ask me anything. I can tell you which page I read it on."

Harvey quirks and eyebrow. He takes the file and hails a cab, flips to a random paragraph and starts reading. "Get in. PHILTEX's closing stock price."

"$12.50, closing at $3,460,349 net volume. Lower by fourteen points compared to yesterday."

Harvey pats Mike on the shoulder without bothering to hide his smile. It's so dark that it looks almost feral. He leans back. Now that Mike is no longer distracted by the 40-page document, he can see how much the man has visibly relaxed compared to when they were in the Pen. "That's good kid. And for awhile, I thought that I would be disappointed. Let's see how big of a return I get from my investment."

"So, my secret's safe?"

"For now" Harvey hums. "If you don't make me look bad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that this did not have much Marvey interaction. I felt like I needed to created the stage which the character shall play before I get any concrete plot going. I'm practicing characterization (just like I did Donna) without having too much narration. Any comments on this? Feedback is appreciated because I want to improve how I write. 
> 
> You all have two options. I can either update more frequently in shorter chapter or I can tie the scenes together for longer chapter but it'll take more time. I've been trying to write the next part but this [story](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4992736) keeps getting in the way.


	3. Chapter 3

Working part-time as a teaching assistant under Professor Specter is both easier and harder than Mike initially expected. There are days when it's easier because unlike the normal part-time work that a college kid gets, i.e. a barista or a sales person or a mix of both, Mike gets has a work desk and chair where he spends most of his afternoon.

"Simba" Louis greets, leaning dangerously lower over the cubicle. It creaks under his weight. "I need you to edit this for me. Some graphs are in annexed but I want better looking graphs to be included int he final article. The Chair asked me to write an piece about tax distribution across social classes. I'm getting published in the bi-yearly department periodical."

Mike leans back and his chair groans. "In this example Louis, does this make you Scar?" He takes the crisp cream folder and  slides it into his _In-coming­_ drawer. "I'll get to it after I finish proofing the research material for Harvey's lecture presentation. He's got me combing over the data for the past ten years and re-checking the figures to make sure the equations are still within the margin of error." He has every intention of going back to doing just that but a heavy hand lands on his shoulder.

"Haha, you think you're funny. You're hilarious!" Louis leans in. "Harvey isn't here." He states like it's the declaration of independence. "But _I_ am. So you prioritize what I give you, Mike. And I say that you finish my article because I need to pass a draft of it tomorrow."

Mike rolls his eyes and grabs the folder. "Don't you a have your _own_ TA to terrorize?" he mumbles absently as he scans the document. It's not a hard task, just a time-consuming one. The drafts in the annex aren't properly labelled and Mike has to read the entire article to figure out where exactly they should fit. Most of them are also in badly drawn accountant scratch that he barely understands."

"Because I'm king of the bullpen and, while you might have your senior professors, you all still answer to me." Louis says proudly, stomping off like he stole candy from a baby. There are days when hell threatens to break-over because Louis, Mike finds out, is a bit of an asshole and has a personal vendetta against his hiring Professor, Harvey. It's something about inter-office politics, but Mike is not really sure.

"Don't mind him, Mike" Harold, the boy with cherubic features, say from behind him. "He used to bully me too before you got here. And you probably shouldn't mention the TA-thing. Louis is an junior professor so he doesn't have one. That's why he treats us like he does. He doesn't have anyone to boss around in his department. They don't hire minions until tax-season."

Mike gives Harold a wry smile. "Seriously though, what kind of grown man quotes from the Lion King?" And they laugh between themselves. He's made a few friends too. Rachel, who works for the Management Department across the hall, was one of them. Two friends within, the week. It wasn't so bad. It filled in the empty feeling where his old friendships once occupied, but he hasn't seen them in ages. There was Trevor but he's been smoking so much weed lately that he's barely coherent most of the time.

"I bring gifts" Rachel declares, appearing over the divider with a square cake slice and drying spaghetti on the side. "One of the MD's TAs' had her birthday today. Her sponsor ordered for the entire department. There's more in the MD-side."

"Oh you mean that's not mine?" Mike asks, hopeful, eyeing the cake like it was his last meal. He makes grabby-hands for the paper plate but Rachel swipes it away from reach. Their initial encounter had left a good impression on her because 1) Mike did not hit on her and 2) Mike compared her to Donna which was kind of cool. Her being the second scariest woman he's met in his new work place.

She shakes her head and pouts. "Mike-y need a nanny too?"

He finds the nearest possible projectile, a small wad of post-it that he removed from one of the files, and throws it in her general direction. "I can't leave my desk. Louis wants me to edit his article before tomorrow. But I still have to make Harvey's research notes tonight." He groans into his hands. Even with his shot of genius, it tethering on the _I-can't-do-this_ zone. Plus he had a quiz for tomorrow that he still hasn't studied for.

Rachel looks strangely sympathetic. "Louis asking you to jump through the hoop of fire?"

"Congratulations we've graduated from Lion-jokes to circus-jokes!" Mike replies, laughing. "Yeah. He's been egging me since the Hyena-thing with Harvey. Apparently he doesn't like to be called a carcass-eating scavenger but he'll prefer the psychotic homicidal brother just because he's a lion." 

Rachel laughs then pats him gently on the shoulder. "Just this once, Mike. Because it's your first week." She states, placing the half-eaten cake slice on top of Mike's desk.

"I will sing you songs of praise until my the end of days." Mike sing-songs as he takes his first forkful of cake. He hums around the fluffy butter base with smooth vanilla filling. He can practically hear the choirs of angels opening a door to heaven. Then Rachel snorts and the heavenly mirage dissolves.  

"Don't make it a habit because I'm--"

"Mini-Donna, I know." he cuts her off then takes another mouthful. "Hey Rach, can you get me a soda too?" he yells humorously over the cubicles. He doesn't have to look up to see her flipping him the bird before she disappears around the corner. The sugar high from the cake is enough so he can plough through the materials for the rest of the afternoon.

It was proving to be a long day, thank god it was Wednesday and he had Fridays off. His phone rings. He saves his revisions in Louis' article before diving for his phone. It's wedged between his physics book and his binder at the bottom of his bag. He looks at the register; it's an unknown number. Mike frowns, unknown numbers usually were more trouble to answer than to ignore. So he dumps it back in his bag and begins drafting his e-mail for Louis.

His phone keeps ringing. Five minutes of intense battery-draining lights, sounds, and vibrations later, Mike grabs his phone prepared to bark at the unlucky telemarketer on the other end of the line.

"Where are you?" Donna's voice stuns the words right out of his tongue. He flinches at her tone.

"I'm in my cubicle." He answers, dumbly. There's silence on the other line. One that Mike knows cannot be good for him. "Is there any---"

"Get out" Donna orders. "Get out now before---"

"Mike!" Harvey's voice is a thunderous boom inside the four small walls of the FD Bullpen. His eyebrows are furrowed to the centre and his jaw is locked in a iron-clad bite. If he were a lesser man, he would have bitten off an unwitting TAs ears off because he was greeted the wrong way. "Where the _fuck_ have you been? I called your phone a hundred times and you didn't answer. Did you forget it along with your common sense when you went to school this morning?!"

"Five" Donna comments before the line does dead. Harvey spots the slim mobile against Mike's ears. He catches Mike's wandering eyes, daring him to make-up a pitiful excuse.

"I'm sorry...?" Mike says, sounding more like he's asking a question rather than apologising.

Harvey sighs heavily. He reaches up to pinch his temples between his thumb and two other fingers. "Follow me." He says evenly, all signs of his earlier anger gone like it was never there. He looks at Mike through the curtain of his fingers. "Come on. Get up. We've wasted enough time already."

Mike follows as if he's on autopilot. He logs off, switches his monitor off, and grabs his messenger from the floor. He makes sure that he's, at most, three paces behind the older man. They trek all the way up to the fifth floor where Harvey's office is. Donna's eyes widen when they enter; she was clearly not expecting them to come back to the office. But she's quick to lower her eyes, pretending that she was working on something important on her computer. Mike doesn't call he out on it.

"What you are is _late_." Harvey heaves once Mike shuts the door. "What time do you have, Mike?" he asks evenly.

"FIve-oh-two"

"And when did I give you the assignment?"

"Uhm" Mike gulps. "Lunch."

"Be specific."

"One. You gave it to me at one, Harvey." Mike says, trying his best not to squirm. But Harvey just keeps staring at him, like he's a fish out of water.

"Then is the research summary not finished?" It's quiet, none of the sarcastic or demanding tones in Harvey's voice. "You know, the saddest thing in life is wasted talent. Tell me, kid, was I wrong to give you a second chance?"

Mike wants to refute. He wants to tell Harvey he's wrong. He wants to say that he may have fucked-up once but he can get his life straight. But he knows Harvey's right so he just lowers his head. "Harvey, I'm..." he starts but doesn't know how to end that sentence. I'm sorry? I'm going to do better? I'm trying to fuck this up any more than I have? There are so many things he can say but none of them he can articulate.

Harvey lifts up his hand and waves him off. "I was inclined to give you a shot once. Mike, this isn't elementary school. It's long hours. High pressure. You need to tell me right now I need to go find someone else."

"I..."

"And don't say you won't fuck up again because I know you will. What I need to know is will you stop whining and start doing something about it this time around?"

"Everybody deserves a fresh start once in a while." Mike says softly. "Thanks, Professor."

"It's Harvey." Harvey cuts him off. "Professor makes me feel too old. Harvey is fine." He says, leaning his hip against his wooden desk. "Who are you kidding? You aren't that young if you can quote Bugsy Seigel."

Mike grins. "Only cause you quoted a bus driver. Solid script. De Niro did a good job."

"Your taste in classics abhor me."

There's a pregnant silence.

"Did you seriously bring me up here just to scold me?" Mike asks after a few minutes. The office has a good internet signal and he managed to save the draft on his email. He scrolls through his phone to send it.

"Would you rather I did it in front of a live studio audience?" Harvey quips. "I didn't know you were such a spotlight queen, Mike." Mike laughs to nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "And did Donna call you before I came? I swear I heard her voice when I was yelling at you." Harvey continues, casting a cursory glance through the glass-panelled wall.

Mike chuckles nervously. "Uhm, no? And thank you?"

Harvey cocks his eyebrow. "If you're going to go one taking peoples tests for them, you should seriously consider learning to lie better." He says. He goes over the desk and pulls out another folder. "You've already messed up once. I don't want to see you doing it again." He barks. "When you look bad, I look bad, and kid, I don't want to look bad. Get your ass out of my office and finish what I asked you to do."

Mike throws him a glare and rolls his eyes. "Hardass" he murmurs under his breath.

"What was that?" Harvey frowns.

"Nothing oh great Professor Spector. I'm going back to my cubicle now. I'll send it over when I'm done." Mike stands up, dragging the chair across the room in a loud shriek that definitely assaulted Harvey's ear drum. Once he's gone, Donna turns around and gives Harvey a questioning look.

"Too harsh?" He does not have double-check is she was listening. She was _always_ listening through the open com-line from his office to her desk. She never spoke of anything private but to him and she was there to give unsolicited advice when he needed it. That's what make their dynamic work. He respected her for her brains not just how she looked in a designer dress. Plus, she could be a vixen--the scary one--when she needed to. She's had his back since the day he hired her.

Donna's face answers for her. He can read it like an open book when she wants him to. The look she gave him now is something that borders on worried-and-chastising. "It's not the kid's fault, you know. Louis has been taking it out on him." her voices echoes through the intercom. She doesn't even have to lift a finger to show just how much she disapproved of his earlier conversation. He supposes she was right just like she normally was when it came to keeping him in line.

Harvey sighs and reclines his seat. "Hold the down the fort, won't you Donna. I'm going to have a meeting with Junior."

 

%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Three! I figure to might as well post it before I run out of creative fuel. Making long chapters is so taxing!


	4. Chapter 4

Harvey Specter has been a teacher for most of his adult life and a money-lover even before he could walk. He's been a full-time bonafide lecturer at Pearson-Hardman for a little over five-years and a teacher in a community college before that. He may be a young professor but he was never a push-over.

He was not afraid to talk back against the higher-ups in the administration, especially if they made a stupid disconnected judgement without bothering to weight the other costs. He always went for the underdog, which is probably why he was inclined to give skinny Mike Ross a chance and hired him as his TA. It also meant that Mike was one of _his_. He was not fond of people messing with his people.

"Good Evening, Norma." he says, striding into the other man's office. He gives her his signature _Specter_ wink and a salute. "Louis won't mind if I drop right in, will he?"

"Not at all, Harvey" Norman answers with a flirty wink of her own. He gives her a nod before entering the inner office.

"You're been messing with my new puppy." says Harvey in lieu of a greeting. He walks in straight to Louis' desk, pulling the visitor's chair backward then collapsing on it. The chair creaks under the sudden weight. He crosses his leg over the over and places his folded hands over his knees. After that, he waits for Louis to answer him.

Louis, too, folds weaves his finger together and braces his forearms on the desk. He leans angles forward, using the table's height as leverage over Harvey. "We operate in a chain of command model. _I'm_ the TA coordinator and that means _all_ TAs also reports to me."

"Report, Louis" Harvey points out with an exaggerated eye-roll "not command. You _can't_ boss my TA around. Go kick some other professor's puppy."

"Article two, Section thirteen of the TA Manual specifically state that the TA must follow directive from the TA coordinator, aka _me_." Louis quotes smugly. His large buckteeth protruding out of his upper lip because of the size of him grin.  

"Article seven, Section two-F of the same Manual state that directives of the TA coordinator must not prevent the TA from fulfilling tasks imposed by their respective faculty, aka _me_ not you. You don't have a TA." Harvey counters going straight for the kill shot without even blinking.

"Which me that _you_ , by making _my_ puppy do something else, are hindering _my_ productivity---which, coincidentally, goes against the entire intention of the TA-mentorship program." He leans back further into the chair and enjoys how Louis' face slowly turns red with anger.

"You can't out quote me in with the TA Manuals because I proofread those manuals when I was a TA." says Harvey. "Jessica has be read them over and back _for an entire semester_."

"I can do this all night, Louis, but I would rather not" Harvey admits raising both his palms and his shoulder up. "Unlike some people, I have _actual_ work to do. And my publicists has been hounding me for my _next_ book."

"Fine!" Louis snaps, flicking away his guiltless stapler to the nearest wall. "I won't give your puppy additional paperwork. Now get out of my office."

***

Mike opens the door to his dorm room and is surprised by the overly familiar smell of weed. The pungent trail leading him to one of the inner bedrooms--Trevor's. He frowns. Trevor's been smoking so much weed lately that Mike is beginning to regret taking the exam for him when he should have already failed the class. Mike won't go so far as wishing he's friend flunking out but it's a close thing. The sheer amount of work as a TA was draining.

He shrugs his messenger bag off onto his desk. He takes one long whiff and decides to open the door. It was nearly nine in the evening, patrols were done for the night, and they were on the fourth floor of the old building. It's safe to say that no one will be sniffing out weed, let alone looking for its source in the dorm rooms.

The fresh air is well-appreciated. Mike can feel himself relaxing as the stuffiness of the room subsides. He sits down and goes over his assignments for tomorrow's lectures. Although he isn't lacking behind, he isn't ahead of the lesson's either. He barely has enough time to mingle after-class before Harvey is barking another set of orders through his phone.

"Mickey, Mike-y, Mike~" Trevor's voice singsongs as he walks into the small living area. A breeze of pot-stinking smoke comes out of Trevor's bedroom. He looks worse for wear in days old clothes and looking like he hasn't showered in twice that time. "I haven't seen you in forevaaaaah. We haven't played in a long, long, loo--ng time."

Mike is inwardly thankful that he shut his bedroom door. The thick odour of the pot leaks into the common area. He won't be a hypocrite about the pot-use. He just doesn't like the smell sticking to his things. He shakes his head at Trevor's high-speak which, even if he isn't high, he managed to understand.

"Sorry, Trevor. I've been busy." says Mike with sarcasm bleeding into his tone. "You know, being caught by the proctor for taking _your_ test."

It falls on deaf ears because Trevor just gives him another shit-eating grin.

"But that's what bestest most best friends in the world are for!" He says laughing it off and draping himself all over Mike's shoulders. "That why you and me. We gotta stick together like apples and bees! Say, I can give you free sample if you want. I call it the best friend's discount!"

"No, thanks for the offer, dude." Mikes fakes a smile and manages an uneasy laugh. "I'm not feeling up to it tonight." _or any night soon unless I want to flunk a course_ , thinks Mike as he carefully disentangles his torso from Trevor's death grip. "Look, dude, I've got this assignment tomorrow and I really could use the area to study. Do you mind?"

Trevor looks insulted by the sentiment. "Pft! You get a gig being a teacher's pet and suddenly you're high and mighty. Piss off, Mike. I'm gonna go find myself some other friends who aren't too uptight to smoke a joint or two." he hisses then stomps out of the dorm and slamming the door in his wake.

Mike sighs and runs a hand through his already messy hair. He glances at the bunch of books he's got stacked to one side of his desk and almost wants to quit at the overt monstrosity of the pile. He shakes his head. No, he tells himself, he's got too many things banking on this diploma.

He kick the lowest drawer of his desk, making it slide out. It's brimming with Red Bull. He pulls out a can, popping it open, and takes a good long swig. Yep, it's going to be one of those night. He gets to work.

***

A few days later, Mike walks into Harvey's office feeling like he was falling asleep on his feel. It was only three in the afternoon. He'd been the pen since eight am this morning because it was his TA-day when he didn't have classes. The past week has a little short of his own personal hell. And he feel exactly that when he delivers the midterm essays to Harvey's office.

"You look like the walking dead" Donna tells him without with pleasantries. This time around, she gives him a once over then points to the side of the room. There's a large ceiling to floor shelf just for stacking coursework. "You can stack them up over there but keep the sections clearly divided, okay?"

Mike does as instructed and rubs out the chink in his shoulder. "Yeah... I haven't been sleeping well."

"Aww, no, honey" Donna deadpans "I meant it as a compliment. You're still alive." There's a few seconds intervals wherein she's rapidly clicking something with her mouse before she talks again. Mikes stands awkwardly in the corner waiting for what to do next. "Harvey wants to see you today. He's in his office. Go."

In the month and a half that he's been a TA, his relationship with Donna has become easier. She's equal parts a friend and a confidant who helps him get through to Harvey when he really needs to. He flashes her a thankful smile and goes into the inner office.

"Harvey" he calls out as he steps in. "You wanted to see me?"

Harvey's sitting behind his desk with a cup of tea in hand and a pot of loose tea on the table."Stay there. Don't move. Don't say a word." Mike shakily nods in profound confusion and stands awkwardly in the middle of Professor Specter's office.

Harvey moves around. In three long strides, he is directly in front of Mike. He lifts his hand, cupping Mike by the jaw and lift's the boy's chin. "Look at me" he says, staring straight into Mike's eyes. Mike's eyes are wide as saucers and he involuntarily takes a deep breath.

Then Harvey is behind Mike in such close proximity that Mike can _feel_ the older man breathing. "Don't move" he tells man again. He circles his arms around Mike, cold hands slipping straight into Mike's hoodie pouch where he's got he's hands stuffed.

Mike squeaks, biting his lips to resist the temptation to talk.

Harvey pulls away his hands then does the same to Mike's front pockets and Mike's back pockets. He grips Mike on the upper arms, lightly enough that Mike does not flinch at the contact. He bends down, face at a edge of Mike's hoodie then he _sniffs_ all the way up to Mike's hair. The action, this time, causes Mike to shiver.

"Turn around" Harvey lowly into his ear. Mike complies like a puppet.

Harvey tugs Mike's hands out of the pouch and lays them flat on Mike's sides. He keeps his hold Mike's hand and does the exact same thing. This time he starts right above Mike's crotch. Of course the kid will react to anyone that near his private parts! Harvey _smells_ him all the way up to his neck, behind both ears, and under his jaw.

"Take off your hoodie"

"W--what? Why?"

Harvey looks Mike directly in the eye. "Did I stutter, puppy?"

Once more, Mike shakily complies. He strips off his hoodie in a mechanical movement and throws it to the couch. There's nothing underneath it."So is this the part where you bend me over the nearest surface and fuck my little cunt like a good boy?" Mike challenges with eyes ablaze.

This time, Harvey's taken aback. The older man appears visibly disgusted.

"What?"

"Why else will you have me strip?"

Harvey rubs his hands over his face and exhales loudly. "Weed. I can smell it on you a mile away." he says, stepping back. "But it looks like you don't smoke it--no wait, you haven't smoked in _awhile_ because the signs aren't on you, they're on _your clothes._ So it means that someone you know is doing pot on a regular basis for it to have seeped in so much."

Mike blinks stupidly before grabbing his hoodie and shrugging it back on. "You could have just asked" says in protest.

"And you would have lied" Harvey counters, stepping back into Mike's space. "Tell me I'm wrong, kid."

Mike looks away in shame and it's answer enough.

"You need to move dorms." says Harvey, crossing his arms over his chest. "Or you're off the program and I tell the department what you did. It'll take both you and your friend down with you. He's probably the one smoking the dope, isn't he?"

He doesn't even wait for Mike to nod. "Which is _exactly_ why you have to move. You cannot keep surrounding yourself with people who are setting you up to fail. You're setting yourself up to fail, kid."

"I---I can't" Mike says honestly. He runs his hand over the imaginary chill in the room. "I can't afford another dorm. Trevor's paying for the whole dorm. I'm, uh, freeloader... I guess?"

"Jesus, kid." Harvey groans into his own hands then rubs his fingers over the back of his neck. "I'm starting to regret that I chose you." He paces around the room for a good five minutes before he throws his hands up in the air in defeat. He mutters something angry underneath his breath than stalks off to his desk. He grabs a piece of paper and scribbles something. He pushes it into Mike's chest.

"What is it?" Mike wonders aloud, looking down at the strip of paper. "Harvey?"

"That kid" Harvey points directly in the centre of Mike's hoodie. "is my next big mistake. So get out of here before I change my mind. Shooo!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was having a bad day. So I thought that I might give Mike a bad day. But then I finished my MSS story (yay!) and decided to write some almost-smut instead. 
> 
> Your comments are read and salivated upon regularly. Because I do not (really) know where I want this fic to go so I'm just going with the flow based your suggestions. Kudos are welcome too!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of a breather chapter for some Marvey-fluff. Please enjoy.

There's a knock on her door. Two-thumps in quick succession.

"Come in"

Edith Ross stares out into the open window of her small bedroom. She's tuck into medical bed, under thick handmade quilt, bidding her time by doing some knitting. There's a cooling cup of tea by her bedside table, an open packet of biscuits, and her dentures. She's been here for nearly two months now.

Mike walks in and immediately collapses on her bedside chair. It's large and fluffy and wheezes like a whoopee cushion when he sits down. It's been a month and a half since she's last seen him. He looks worse for wear with bags underneath his eye, dark blonde hair dulled, and the look of utter exhaustion on his face. She's thankful that he got her into a good care facility.

"Penny for your thoughts, Michael?" she asks, lowering her knitting on top of her lap. "You don't normally come to visit me unless there's something you need to day."

Mike lets out an uneasy laugh, hand folding over his eyes as he sighs heavily. It's a look that she's all to familiar with--when there's something heavily budding his mind or a problem that he can't seem to find a solution to. So she waits, not pushing, for him to speak.

"It's Trevor" he confesses after a while.

Edith frowns. She's never been too fond of that boy--always getting into trouble, always in the middle of trouble, always causing trouble. In other words, in her mind, Trevor Evans is trouble. She really can't understand while her grandson would choose such a boy for constant company. However, she isn't Michael and, even if she raised him, she cannot stop him from choosing his own friends.

"I may be old but I'm not an idiot. I know life has been hard for you but you're not a kid anymore and I want you to promise you're going to start living up to your potential" She flat out tells him. She may not be able to pick his friends but she can have an opinion on them.

Mike audibly laments over her words. "Ouch. Straight to the gut, aren't you Grammy?" he says, grinning It's what he can here for after all. Edith Ross' words have never been easy but they were words that he needed to learn to bear. "I'm still a young hormonal, ya know. There's still a high percent chance of me acting out as a first initial response."

"Michael Ross don't you dare sass you're grandmother." she sasses playfully, grabbing one of biscuits and throwing it in his direction, landing square on his chest. "Who do you think raised your father? I've seen Ross' sass and it's nothing I can't handle."

Mike throws his head back, laughing. He grabs the crumbling biscuit on his chest and pops it into his mouth.

***

Mike tried a few times to move. Tried being the key word. Each and every time he's made his attempt at the great escape from his dorm room, Trevor manages to somehow squeeze into the picture at the very last minute, making it hard for Mike two do a straight-forward move. So he goes to plan B, he takes a larger than necessary overnight bag during one of his TA-schedules days and doesn't go back to the dorm. It's only his clothes, books, and bare necessities but it'll have to be enough for now.

The house is a considerable size but not exorbitant. It's a two-storey rosewood brick home, white embellishments, and a dark chocolate wooden door. There was a small, lightly planted garden in front which was separated by a redbrick pathway. The front of the house had a high-pointed roof while the back was far-less steep with dark brown shingles.

He steels his back and knocks on the door. Nobody answers. He stands there stupidly, waiting for someone to open the door. He knocks three more times but nothing happens.

Mike frowns. He's just about to pick-up his duffel and leave when the door swings open. Harvey's eyes are just as wide as his, the older man gives him a long drawn out look in question.

"Did you---" Harvey asks, eyeing the way Mike's holding his bag and the redness on Mike's place cheeks from standing in the cold for too long. "How long have you _been_ standing out here?"

"Twenty-minutes" Mike answers with a shrug, not that he counted in his head how much time has passes; technically it was twenty-two.

Harvey pads his palm over the side upper side of his head, pressing down on his slicked back hair, with a burdensome sigh. "Jesus, kid." He breathes out. "I didn't hear you..." then something dawns on him like a splash of ice-cold water. "...did you _knock_? With a house this size? Really, kid?"

"I---" Mike crosses his arms indignantly. "I did. You didn't tell me what time I should go. So I came before I went to the Department." he shuffles his legs at the next part. "I... I didn't want any more weird things floating around in the pen... ya know, dude, 'cause I'm moving here... with you. Not really normal for a TA, right?"

"Not necessarily" Harvey concedes but it was quiet, opening his door wider. "...and don't call me dude. I was waiting for you all morning. I thought you wouldn't show today."

"I had to wait until Trevor was gone. He'll bug me or worse _follow me_ if he thought anything was up." Mike answers honestly. He crosses the threshold with his eyes looking down because even the floors were made of wood. The door click behind him and it's only then that he decides to look up.

"Woah. Seriously. Woah." he babbles without much thought. "Woah, dude, this house is ah-may-zing!" The door opens to a stair landing with two rooms on either side; a study/den on the right that's filled with ceiling-to-floor shelves of books and on the left is a living area with a fireplace.

"The bedrooms are upstairs" Harvey tells him. Mike follows him up the stairs. "Your bedroom is on the left and mine is on the right. Bathroom is down the hall. You're free to use whatever facilities there are in the house as long as it's in the open. There's a laundry area in the back, behind the kitchen. Housekeeper comes every other Saturday. You're allowed to bring outsiders into the house. And, finally, under no circumstance are you to enter my room. Do you understand the rules, rookie?"

Mike nods absently.

"Did you even listen to a word that I said?" Harvey questions impatiently.

"Yes, no" Mike says, pointing to the bedrooms. "I can use anything I want, which I assume to means the stuff in the commons areas. Anything you buy, as long as you leave it in anywhere except your bedroom, I share and vice-versa. You also told me about the housekeeper but specifically mentioned the laundry room and the kitchen, which means that those two things you do by yourself. And since I'm technically free-loading, you're going to pass on to me as a part of my _rent_."

Harvey nods appreciatively. "Very good kid, there's a reason that I hired you after all. I don't normally dine at home. When I do, I mostly prefer anything made by hand, not those instant-whatever or boxed carton noodles. I've already well-exceeded my limit to the mass-produced crap on campus that people call food. Is there anything you know how to cook?"

"Chicken, beans? Simple stuff, nothing too fancy for just Grammy and me." Mike responds with a bit of anxiety because, yes, Grammy taught him how to cook whenever she needed help in the kitchen as he was growing up, but he's never really been as good of a cook as her.

"Okay, try them out tomorrow night. You can leave a list of ingredients by my desk this afternoon."

***

Harvey arrives home the following night with an arm-full of groceries. Mike's already in the kitchen, stressing over Grammy's recipe notes while doing his problem sets on the side. He's sitting on a tall bar stool, bare foot on the seat and the other dangling off the edge, his chin was propped up the knee he pulled tight against his chest. He's alternatively reading over his notes and writing on jotting down his answers on the paper.

"I don't see how ' _simmer the chicken in the reduction until golden brown_ ' has anything to do with compounding interests." Harvey says lightly, quoting the recipe notes. He is peering over Mike's shoulder to see the papers. He eyes Mike carefully as the younger man finishes scribbling some more equations before boxing ins final answer.

"It doesn't" Mike replies. He puts down his pen over his sheet, glancing at Harvey over the shoulder. "It helps me relax when I'm solving something... Did you but all the stuff?"

In response, Harvey lowers the large paper bag on the counter. "They didn't have whole chicken so I got some selected parts instead." he brings out the food items. Mike steps up beside him and helps him store away the long-lasting perishables and stuff for the freezer.

He's anxious about the whole affair. He's never really made this for anyone other than Grammy and himself. A couple of times he brought leftovers to the home and Grammy shares the food with her friends. But they were all nice old ladies and praised him every time.

Harvey doesn't look like the comfort-food type of guy; he looks like the type to wine and dine in fancy places that Mike will never dare walk into. If a guy like that can afford it, he wonders why Harvey bothers with home-food in the first place.

Mike's too nervous to think about Harvey's better preferences right now. He focuses on the task at hand and goes through the motion of preparing the chicken. Harvey had bought thighs and breast. Mike wonder briefly if the man had intended to feed more than the two of them because there was enough to feed an army. It's a little bit over than what the recipe requires.

"Why chicken?" Harvey asks out of the blue. He's replaced Mike on the stool, hand tracing over the problems sets like he was already correcting the equations in his head.

"It's cheaper than pork or beef." says Mike as he starts rubbing the butter-herb mixture underneath the chicken skin. It's Grammy's secret recipe for really juicy chicken. When he's done, he lets the chicken rest and goes to prepare the rest of the ingredients--flour, egg, oil. "Grammy was already retired when she took me in and her stipend wasn't that big. So we did our best to make do. Chicken was always the less expensive option."

Harvey opens his mouth to ask something else but it drowns out in the echoes of the oil crackling.

***

Harvey looks at his watch for the ninth time this morning. Mike was already supposed to be here ten minutes ago and yet the kid still hasn't shown up at his door. This was a mistake, another big mistake, inviting the kid to stay with him instead of the dorms. There, really, was nothing we could do given the situation. He cannot risk his new pet getting expelled for something as petty as not reporting his pot-smoking roommate. That was an idiotic way to get kick-out of college.

By half past seven sharp, he pulls the door open with every intent of mouthing-off as soon as he see's Mike's skinny little good for nothing---Harvey stops dead in his track because Mike was busy freezing said ass off on his patio. The boy looked like he was nearly-hypothermic in multiple layer of thin clothing.

Harvey takes him insides, shows him the room and tells him the ground rules. Once more the kid manages to impress him by explaining everything that he did not say. Mike was good; he had potential and his mind was nothing short of amazing. It's the first time Harvey's encounter such a kid who can consume information like nothing he's ever seen.

What he can see though is Mike's clothes; they're entirely too small and yet too big at the same time. He thinks that it's because the boy has skipped one too many meals in a short amount of time and he wasn't eating right. If this continues, god forbid, he'll drop dead from fatigue. Being a TA wasn't an easy job. Harvey knows 'case he's been through it. He doesn't tell Mike what he thinks. Instead he asks if the boy can cook.

The next evening, Mike shy offers chicken and he accepts it.

It's simple fried chicken with salt and pepper breading and nothing to match. The taste explodes in his mouth on first bite. It's good. It may not be restaurant quality but the taste is reminiscent of home. If there was cornbread, it'd be the perfect combination for a nice cosy dinner.

On the fourth bite, Harvey notices that Mike isn't eating at all. The kid's just staring at him with an agitated expression.

"It's good, kid. Nice job." Harvey says before the next forkful. "Maybe next time with some cornbread?"

Mike visibly relaxes with the praise and nods his head. "I--I'll ask Grammy how she makes them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a Bonus Halloween short for this AU. 
> 
> I can't decide where to post it; either as another chapter or a separate one-shot in the series. It doesn't really relate to the story in general or add any more details. Opinions? It's already finished and ready to be posted. And I want to post if before Halloween *cries*


	6. BONUS: HALLOWEEN CHAPTER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Mike and Harvey make a bet so see which one of them  won't know what's cool if it bit them on the ass.
> 
>  **Systematic Risk** \- _The risk inherent to the entire market that is both unpredictable and impossible to completely avoid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally intended this to be Part 3 of the Professor 'Verse but it didn't make sense to do that.

By the time that Halloween season comes around, Mike's comfortably settled living In Harvey's house. They've started establishing something that resembles a routine in the past month. Mostly, it's just been Mike trying not to get in Harvey's way but, hey, at least now he eats three-square meals a day since he's doing most of the cooking. It's a solid system and it's working out for both of them.

These days his clothes are freshly washed, smelling like laundry detergent instead of Pot. Harvey let's Mike use the washing machine on the condition that Mike does Harvey's laundry as well. He doesn't mind the extra-work. He's not paying rent and he can use Harvey's better smelling laundry suds instead of the cheap-ass detergent he buys at the 99-cent store.

Between classes and he's job as a TA, Mike's life has generally gotten better.

"What are you _wearing_?" Harvey's voice echoes through the hall, all the way from the den. The man isn't hasn't even gotten up from his perch on the dark purple couch in the study, feel propped up on the book-covered coffee table, with a large document in his hand. He is eyeing Mike through the top of his small square golden spectacles.

Mike has to gulp down his reaction. It wasn't until he started living with the guy that he realized why Harvey has so many fangirls in the campus despite having the tendencies to impersonate Satan inside the classroom. He was particularly well-known for his brutal amount of coursework and keen eye for detail.

"It's Saturday night." comes Mike's jittery response. He can feel the man's eyes scrutinizing over his appearance and starts to feel fidgety.

"I know" Harvey says in an irritated tone. He pulls up his glasses to his head and rubs the indents on his nose, rubbing in small circles. "This is why students fail my exams." he groans into his open palm. "Answering isn't always the case. You to learn to be responsive to the question."

Mike blinks in obvious confusion. It takes him a good five minutes before he can recall what the older man has asked him. He looks down at his frame and remember what he was about to and where he was supposed to be headed. He's wearing one of his blue, white pinstriped (rare) suits over a beige button-down shirt, a red-and-gold striped tie, and his trusty old red converse.

"Oh this" He motions his hands over his body. "I'm the Doctor" he says proudly, slipping hands into his pockets and posing like the sci-fi character.

" _That_ isn't the Doctor." Harvey points out, sounding lightly amused by the whole conversation. "You _look_ like a hispter and aren't you supposed to have a celery stick or something?"

"Celery stick?" Mike repeats, not understanding the reference at all. "What are you talking about? I'm Tenth, you know 2005 remake on BCC, David Tennant, ringing any bells?"

"Michael, it's only called a remake when you rework the old stories, not---"Harvey appears to be insulted by the whole idea in general. "--judging by the number, it's a continuation of the Classics." He gives Mike a slow once-over before continuing. "Not a very good one, from the looks of you. I didn't even know they had a 2005 re-launch."

Mike crosses his arms indignantly. "Chucks with suits are cool." he disagrees, glaring at the older man. "You wouldn't know what's cool if it bit your old ass. Girls dig this, dude."

"Your sorry excuse for a two-piece and horrible taste in footwear abhor my greater sensibilities." Harvey contends, "But if you wish---" A knowing smirk forms on his lips, challenging. "--care to make a little bet, Mike?"

"Yeah!" Mike fires back, all will and bravado. He wants to wipe that stupid smirk off Harvey's stupid face. "What are we betting on?"

Harvey closes his file over his lap, folding his hands atop of it. "Mid-term" He decides. "Loser has to read through all the students horrendous midterm essays. If I win, and I will, you have to summarize them for me so I can grade them easier."

"And if I win?" Mike asks cockily.

"You won't" Harvey answers confident. He gives a non-committal shrug then pulls his glasses back over his face. "Because you 'wouldn't know what's cool if it bit your sorry ass', right?"

"Old" Mike correct. "Your _old_ ass, Harvey."

"Go" Harvey orders without steel. "Go before I make you read over these paperwork for me."

It isn't Halloween Eve just yet but it's a full university campus with hormonally fuelled teenagers roaming all around. They'll take any excuse to party that they can and October was the perfect excuse to do it. It was Halloween-themed parties all around!

***

One day, Mike arrives back in the house, toeing off his shoes by the door, fully intent on trudging all the way up to his room and collapsing on his bed. It's funny how it's easy for him to associate those things as _his_ now, even if technically he was still borrowing Harvey's stuff, but it feels like he has his own space now. It's---relieving to finally have enough room to breathe.

Harvey grabs him by the scruff--erhm, back of his collar--and abruptly jolts him to a stop.

"Harvey?" Mike's voice comes out shaky as he freezes in place. He can feel Harvey's long fingers delicately touching the back of his nape. He shudders in voluntarily. Then one of Harvey's hands clamps over his shoulder, forcing him to turn around. Harvey pries his jacket open and checks something on the inner-lining. "Harvey, what are you doing?" Mike asks again, confused.

"Wrong, wrong, and wrong." Harvey tells him before pulling away, his brows knit together while he frowns openly at Mike. "The sizes on your clothes. They're still all wrong. It'll never do." says Harvey then he turns around tsking as he disappears into his study.

Mike is left standing in the hallway, clothes askew, completely and utterly dumbfounded at the exchange. "What the---?"he mouths to the room at large. Then he shakes his head and tries not to think too much about it. Harvey's being Harvey, still as eccentric as ever.

"Here" Harvey comes stomping out the hall, calling out. He thrusts another piece of paper to Mike, something that's strangely become the norm between them--handing stuff to each other without further need for explanation. Harvey keeps handing Mike things and Mike hands other things to Harvey in return. "Saturday, 9am sharp. Don't be late."

Mike chooses to shrug it off, pocketing the paper into his back pocket, and hikes up the stairs. He has to study for his own midterms tonight before he gets buried under TA-stuff to work on over the weekend.

***

The card leads Mike to an upscale boutique in the east of the central district where the pricier stores are located. He doesn't normally date to go this far into town. With Grammy's home and medical bills, school loans, and other expenses, Mike prefers his clothes from the salvation army that's tucked behind a small church on the opposite side town. He's good as long as he has clothes on his back.

It's called _Renee's_.

Mike peers inside the savvy-looking place before even contemplating on going inside. He hits his forehead against the window once, wincing at the bite of cool glass on his skin. The inside is just as fancy-shamcy as the outside with large stationary metallic racks covering the walls.  

"I'm sorry, we don't sell skinny jeans in this location" A tall, wiry man announces when Mike enters.

Mike twiddles the toes of his converse awkwardly, staring at the floor. "Hey, erhm, I'm looking for--" he fishes out the card Harvey gave him a few nights ago and hands it to the stranger. "--Renee. Eh, Did Harvey tell you I was coming, or...?"

There's a flash of recognition in the man's eyes, unquestionably changing his earlier attitude in a one-eighty. He extends his hand forward to Mike, "I'm Renee. You must be Mike Ross." he says, shamelessly scanning Mike's body from head to toe. "Do you know your inseam?"

"My w--what? Mike tries not to shift too much. "I don't know, it's probably a medium."

Renee snaps his fingers and a young woman, very young and very pretty, saunters over to his side. "Tape him" he orders, walking away. "For heaven's sake we must to something. He's giving me hives by just _wearing_ those hideous things."

"Hey!" Mike squeaks both from the insult and the woman falling to her knees in front of him. He fights the urge to jump out of his sneakers and manages to stay still. He looks down at her. "O--kay, so Large?"

The girl circles her hand around his back, pulling a tape measure around his waist, shaking her head in a fit of giggles. "That's not how it works... Mike" she tells him with a sly smile and a flirtatious flutter of her eyes lids. "I get out at four" she whispers as she slithers up his body, fingers pressing the tape for his measurement, and slowly walks further back into the store.

What is it with people leaving him the middle of places looking like an idiot?

***

Two days later, there's a suit-pouch for Mike hanging on the edge of the stair railings. He wouldn't have known that it was his if not for the large bold lettering on the top declaring: MIKE ROSS, as the owner of the parcel. He pulls it off the rail and marches up the stair with heavy footsteps. Harvey wasn't here to scold him for it. Mike takes his little liberties as they come.

He opens up the bag when he reaches his bedroom; inside is two-piece midnight blue (sharkskin with slim high-george notch lapels) suit, pale cream button-down, and a burgundy tie. Mike nearly tumbles onto the bed in surprise. It's gorgeous, looking like it was plucked straight from a catalogue or a style magazine. He brushes a finger over the fabric, under the lapels and into the pockets; it's velvety soft to the touch---easily the most expensive thing in his wardrobe.

"Why do I have a suit that I can't possibly afford hanging in my closet?" Mike wonders aloud when Harvey finally arrives. It's dinner, there was spaghetti in the oven and salad ready to be tossed in the fridge. He sits casually on the chair, gazing up when the man entered the kitchen.

"No" Harvey deadpans "And hello to you too." he walks over to the table,  bag and jacket already gone and probably left on the study floor for some work later this evening, and slides into a chair across from Mike. "So I take it that you saw the suit. What do you think?"

"Isn't it a little to excessive for some party?" Mike questions then raises his hand before Harvey has as chance to answer. "Wait. Don't answer that yet. I left the spaghetti warming in the oven. Salad's in the fridge." He comes back a few minutes later, items in hand, and does a _go-on_ gesture.

Harvey rolls his eyes and starts tossing the salad. "It's the Pearson Hardman Halloween ball. You'll understand when you get there." he says, which was hardly an explanation at all. "Then we'll see who won't know what's cool if it bit them in the ass."

***

"You're right" Mike concedes a few nights later. It's Friday the 30th, the night before the actual Halloween. It's the perfect excuse for people to throw parties left and right, get drunk-ass wasted, and wake up tomorrow afternoon not remembering nearly everything that happened. Mike re-adjust his lapels and his button and his cuffs for the ninth time as he waits for Harvey at the stair-landing.

"Ready to go, rookie?" Harvey calls out from the second floor making Mike look up. If his suit was elegant, Harvey is positively _regal_ in his three-piece suit--solid black jacket with wide peak lapels, a dark grey plaid waist coast, a crisp white shirt, a wide midnight blue tie, and a neatly folded navy blue square tucked inside his breast pocket. He _stared_ because all that should not be legal.

 "Y--yeah" Mike replies dumbly. He's in a state between shocked and awe, without the capabilities of his higher brain functions at the moment.

"So...?" Harvey's self-satisfied smirk says it all, not even needing to finish that sentence. He bounces of the last step, holding his arms wide to his side and spins around in a tightly controlled pivot. "How do I look?"

 _Like a fucking prince from a fucking fairytale and I'm Cinderella_ , Mike wants to say. It's a surprise even to him when he realizes that he actually means it. But instead, he lets out a choked "Useless because what's the point of Halloween when we aren't even in costume. Where's the mystery, Harvey? We look like we're going to the Royal Ball, not a party."

"Tsk tsk tsk" scolds Harvey. "Weren't you paying any attention? It's a masquerade!"

And yeah, that last bit didn't sink in until they were dropped off at the hotel.

Because wow, just wow.

 It astounded Mike enough that he couldn't even form coherent sentences even if he tried.

There event is in the penthouse of the hotel. Everything is sparkly, shiny, or glittery. It's feel like stepping into the stage from a play---Phantom of the Opera to be specific except that people were wearing modern clothing. The masks were the same, extravagant and overly-complicated designs, covering each and every person's face with vary degrees of exposure.

Mike's mask is blue and silver. Harvey's is matte black.

"This is unbelievable." says Mike, without bothering to check if Harvey was listening. "I can't even tell which parts are the hotel and which are decorations. It's amazing. I---I can't even..." he looks down and stares are his brightly polished leather shoes. "I'll look over the midterm papers on Sunday."

"Let's split it over the weekend." comes Harvey's amused response and Mike can't see him because of the mask. "It's a pity that this isn't a formal ball. It'll be nice to see a bowties because they're pretty... cool"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ao3 has been giving me problem with uploading. I keep getting the 505 Error (like a 20-ish times today). URGH. Anyone else having the same problem?


	7. Chapter 7

Working as a part-time teaching assistant was a unique experience; plus, when the time comes, it would look good in his resume. Most days, Mike felt like he was leading a double-life---or, at least, taking two degrees at the same time. Working for _Harvey Specter_ was a whole'nother ballgame.

They are in the middle of a busy cafe. It's Saturday morning.

Harvey is dressed-down in a light denim Henley, two buttons open and sleeves folded up to elbows. A small untouched cup of espresso sits in front of him. Mike is on his left, in a Superman pull-over, nose buried in thick photocopy notes and the cap of his neon green highlighter between his lips.

Yep, definitely not an ordinary way to spend the weekend.

A tall curvy brunette wades through the crowd and takes the last seat around their small table. "Harvey" she says with a cross look. She sits down, crossing her arms, and one leg thrown over the other. She give him a questioning look then peers at Mike carefully. She frowns.

"Isn't he a bit _too_ young for you? Really, Harvey, a highschooler? Can't you pick up women at bars like a normal person?"

Mike nearly spits out his iced Americano. "W--what? No! We aren't--no he's just---" It goes all over his lectures notes and the cheap ink immediately starts fading. "My notes~ Shitty Shit Shit. Fuck Shit."

Harvey calms folds the newspaper on his lap, ignoring the chaos beside him. "Zoe, this is Mike. He's _not_ my _boytoy_. He's my puppy in the bullpen. You know how Jessica is... she can be... persuasive." He merely slides his paper to the side and avoids the coffee drippings. "And as you can see, he's not very bright."

"Hey!"

The girl's eyes grow wide then settle in understanding. "Not sleeping together, _right_." She points an accusing finger to Harvey. "Since when do you not sleep around with your TAs?"

"We were TAs _together_. No power imbalance there." He shoots back but still calm. "We were two consensual adults participating in equally consensual sex... which _you_ broke-off when you moved to New York. So can we cut the crap and go straight to the part where you tell me _why_ you're here?"

Her mask melts away. "Tanner" she replies with a weighty expression She digs into her large bag and pulls out a rectangular package. She puts in down on the desk and slides it to Harvey.

"Harvey?" Mike says, looking between them in confusion. "Tanner?... and _her_?" He narrows his eyes. "Look if this is some bizarre love triangle thing, leave me out of it. I don't get why you have to drag me out here on a perfectly good Saturday morning. I have _your_ presentation to finish." he huffs.

Zoe smiles wickedly. "Oooh..." she draws out. "I like this one. You should keep him." She makes a biting face towards Mike. "He's adorable like a feisty little bulldog."

"He's not a bulldog." Harvey gives Mike a once over and says "He's a pug."

"Are you never going to stop with the puppy references?!" Mike grinds his teeth together and starts packing his things. "Seriously, _dude_ , I'm going back home. I'll email you the presentation slides later." He moves to stand but Harvey's command stops him.

"Sit" and Mike falls to back on his chair with a plop!

"He needs house training." Harvey tells the girl and Mike scoffs behind him. "Mike, this is Zoe Lawford, a literature graduate of Pearson Hardman. She's _the devil incarnate_. I suggest that you call for a priest to do an exorcism."

"Haha. Funny as ever." She flips him the bird then looks at Mike. "I'm his editor for the past _two years_." she says, rolling her eyes. "He wouldn't have gotten a single thing published if I haven't gone over everything with a fine-toothed comb... you're an asshole, Harvey." she waves her hand dismissively.

"I'm not here for you." She points motions to the parcel on the table. "Tanner is releasing a new investment book next year."

Harvey opens the paper bag and looks inside. "I  wasn't aware that we were in a competition."

"You might not but he did. This isn't small-time personal finance investment anymore, Harvey. He's going after all the clients you have on retainer and trying to prove all your assumptions are incorrect. It's my duty, and my pay check, to make sure that you'll come out of this one step ahead."

Harvey is frowning by the time she ends. He throws the book at Mike. "This is why you're here. New assignment. After the presentation are finished, you read that and finish it. We'll cross-reference it with the information from my clients. I want to know which of them has a mole among their ranks. If Tanner has access to books, I need to know who he's in bed with."

Mike purses his lips and scans through the thick manuscript. "Fine" he grumbles. "But you're buying pizza, the one with cheese in the crust, for every night's sleep that I'm losing."

"One a night" Harvey counters. "... and no pineapples."

Zoe blinks in surprise. "You're gonna make him do... all that?"

"It's his job." Harvey shrugs. "Here" he pulls out a box of pastries in a take-away box. "For Livy. You know what to tell her."

***

It's 9am in the TA FD Bullpen.

Mike sits in front of his computer, head propped on his hand and elbow leaning on the table. A large binder sits open beside the keyboard, a half-drunk cup of weak-ass coffee, and an empty granola bar wrapper. He's holding the last bit of the treat in his mouth as he's typing.

"You look energetic." Rachel says, leaning against the partition. She glances at her watch. "And it's only 9am."

"Ha-vun-bu-vlum" He attempts to speak through the granola bar then decides against it. "Haven't slept yet" he explains after pulling it away.

Rachel eyes his mysteriously clean desk. "How long have you be up... exactly?"

Mike kick the last drawer on his pedestal and resumes typing. Inside the metal rack was a pile of relatively fresh red bull carcasses in various states of disfigurement.

She grimaces at the sight. "You're disgusting." she scolds but she doesn't leave. It's a good ten minutes before Mike notices that she hasn't left.

"Okay, I'll bite" Mike says, tearing his tires eyes away from the screen then looking up to face her. "What do you need, Rachel?" he asks, craning his neck to the side. Ohh, he has kinks on his kink. They crack when he flexes.

Her smile nearly splits her face. "I need your help. I've got an exam in two days..." Mike just gives her a _go-on_ face. "...and Louis has been hounding me to double-check the corrections and audit the grades for one of his classes... there's just too many things on my plate, right now."

Mike throws her a look and glances down at his own file. He slides out of the cubicle and stretches his hands. "Louis, really?"

Rachel nods and raises her palms up. "He's the TA coordinator and out TA evaluations are up next week. Look..." she sighs "... haven't you even noticed that he hasn't buried you in paperwork like the rest of us after the whole debacle with Harvey? Not all of us are as lucky as you to get picked _Harvey_ _Specter_ as a TA. Some of the higher profs are kinda-push-overs."

"Sorry what?" Mike double-takes, brows furrowing. "Harvey what?" he asked.

"Think, Mike!" Rachel snorts. "When was the last time Louis gave you any work?"

"Erhm, he asked me to photocopy quiz no.6 for one of his course the other day. Spent nearly all day having quality time with the photocopier and got stable burns."

Rachel rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "I meant _real_ work not the type you can do with your eyes closed."

"It's pretty hard to stable something without seeing it..." Mike jokes. Deep down, he knows she's right. The last time that Louis gave him anything remotely difficult to do was the article for the department newsletter. He remembers the ugly god-forsaken graphs like yesterday, handwritten like a five year old's chicken scratch. The groans. "I give. What's the deal?"

"Check and grade" Rachel tells him. She hands him a rim of papers held together by a thick rubber band over the divider. He shows open hostility for the stack as he takes it. "Oh my god, that's Mike! You're the absolute best, I don't know what I'll go without you."

Mike gives her a smug look. "You'll be Princess Peach stuck with Luigi instead of Mario."

Rachel makes a barfing noise. "I owe you one." she says with a nod. "I gotta go. I've got set up the video files in the AV room. I'm proctoring a movie screening. By the way, those corrections are due tomorrow. See you!"

"Hey, wha--wait!" but it's too late. She's already rounded out of the corner. Mike groans.

 _Why do I always, always_ _get myself stuck in these situations?_

Because you're an idiot, his brain supplies.

He scrunches his face then runs a hand through his hair. He gathers the papers in his hand, pops the first drawer open and shoves them all inside. He'll deal with those later. He needs to finish the Ramona summaries by lunch and he's still only half-way done.

***

Harvey arrives on the third night armed with an armful of square pizza from Pinocchio's. He immediately tugs on his tie with a finger in his collar. He manoeuvres his jacket off without dropping the box in hand. There's a dim light coming from the library and the crackling of the fire. He steps into an person-less room but it doesn't feel empty unlike before.

He sees traces of Mike everywhere; shoes at the end of the couch, a jacket carelessly thrown over the messenger bag by the door, and Mike's skinny tie fallen on the floor. The room itself is in disarray with books haplessly covering the table, open on various pages. Several coloured pieces of post-it notes and highlighters joins the mess.

It amazes Harvey how this all feel so---domestic to him instead of invasive.

He follows the light to the kitchen. Mike is draped over the breakfast counter without a care. His head his turned towards the door, mouth slightly open and drooling on the side of his arm. He's on top of a large binder that Harvey recognizes at the Romona files. He's wearing one of his ratty old pull-over that are fraying slightly at the hems.

He frowns. Was he really over working the kid? Mike's sleeping face, free from any worry, took years off his age. Zoe was right; the boy looked closer to eighteen rather than twenty three---looked like a puppy. Something sparks inside Harvey. He moves without conscious thought, lifting the slightly damp bangs off Mike's forehead. The boy nuzzle into the touch. It shocks Harvey so much that he jumps back.

Mike starts mumbling in his sleep and becoming restless.

"Mike?" Harvey asks aloud. Mike doesn't seem to hear him. He's continuously fidgeting on top of the barstool. He'll fall if he keeps it up.

"No..." Mike whimpers. "No, don't leave me... no... please... don't...don't go..."

Harvey's frown deepens. He eyes the way that the chair wobbles underneath Mike's ministrations. The narrow seat did not make for easy balance, especially with the way that Mike has contorted his body into a half-fetal and half-sprawled on the counter position.

"Mike?" he calls out, even louder. "Mike!"

"Please...please..." Mike sobs. "...don't go ...don't leave me..." He scrambles for purchase on the countertop, struggling against an invisible enemy that Harvey couldn't see. His movements are frantic like he was searching for something. "No... please...." and there so much pain in Mike's voice that it was breaking.

"MIKE!" Harvey yells, zoning it. His hands poise upward, preparing for the inevitable fall.

Mike snaps awake, falling. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the impact---but it never came. There is box of pizza on the ground beside them, barely saved from being crushed by Harvey's thighs. He opens his eyes and it's the first thing he sees. Someone is holding him and he is clinging to them. It's warm and comfortable. He lets himself go lax.

"Mike" Harvey repeats again, softer, more soothing. He grimaces at the ache in his knees from buckling against the hard tiles. Mike is sleep-warm, hazy, and incoherent in his arms. He studies the dark-eye, pale skin, and oozing sense of tiredness coming from the boy. Then there's something else, an akin fear that was triggered by a very bad dream. "Mike, you're here. I'm here... Mike."

"Pizza..." Mike says weakly. His pillow rumbles beneath him. He makes grabby hands for the pizza and his comfortable pillow starts to move. His entire body is lax but his muscles remain still from his earlier perch.

Harvey relaxes, tension leaving his shoulders as he observes Mike's silly gestures in amusement. "Pizza, really? You fall off the chair like a princess and that's the first thing you notice?"

Mike, finally, comes back to reality and jerks in attention. "What the h---Harvey?!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have all been wonderful~! I do enjoy re-reading your comments; they are salivated upon and hugged close to my heart. As the story goes along, do tell me your ideas and request~ \:D/


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **OMG. I finally updated!** Yeah, I am a pretty emotional person. I do take all your comments and feedback seriously. I got hit pretty bad and it took me a while to recover. I was selfish and I left this hanging in the air. I am so sorry. I hope you guys will forgive me. Fear not though, I am so grateful for the support that you guys have given me for this story. I'll try to improve as we go along and make this a better story!

Harvey takes his sorry excuse for a teaching assistant off the floor and onto a chair--not the high stool. Okay, no, if he were honest to himself, he needs to acknowledge that Mike isn't _that_ bad. The kid is actually doing a pretty good job, not that Harvey had any frame of reference being on the other side of things. He only had memories from his days as a TA with Jessica. He contemplates whether or not he's over working the kid.

There are bags under Mike's eyes. More than usual and the kid looked half-starved and half-dead most of the time. Harvey thought that living with him might change a few things. If any, Mike looks like he's more worn out than ever, but at least he wasn't any skinnier.

He watches Mike under his lashes. The kid's falling asleep on his feet while nibbling on a pizza.

"How's school?" He surprises himself by asking. They've done this a few times. Usually, it's during a long night of grading that Harvey just _forgot_ to grade. Never just like _this_ with only time and warm pizza between them.

Mike seems just as surprised. He chokes for a second before he swallows. He grimaces.

"That bad, huh?" He says without judgement. He's been in Mike's shoes. Not exactly the test-taking cheating kind of shoes but a teaching assistant feeling like he has something to prove. He knows the kids is pushing himself beyond his limits. Hell, he probably doesn't know his own limits yet.

"A little," Mike's shoulders lose tension as he confesses,  "there's this thing for one of my courses. The theory isn't so hard. I've got them up here," he pats the side of his head, "but I guess it's _too_ theoretical. They just aren't fitting together."

Harvey raises his eyebrow. "You're in your second year, right?"

"Yeah"

"So it's probably one of your majors?" He asks, contemplative over a pizza slice. "You do know that you'll be forced to shift out if you fail to meet the grade requirement, right? You won't be able to take the next courses or the rest of your degree."

"I know!" Mike bites out harshly. He glares at the half-eaten box of pizza like it personally offended him. "Geezus, Harvey, I know." He runs his grease covered fingers through his hair. It makes Harvey grimace. "Why do you think I've been losing sleep over it? I've been burying my nose over the text for days now but I still don't understand it. It's a bunch of mumbo-jumbo that don't make sense in the real world!"

"Is that so?" Harvey consciously tries not to sound condescending. Mike doesn't look convinced. "Come on,"  he coaxes, "It's time to realize that being a TA isn't just all work. Ya, know? You've got a level 7 senior lecturer living in the same house. If you fail any of your courses, you'll make me look bad."

Mike's laugh is unexpected. "You know," he says between fits of giggles, "not everything is about you, oh, mighty, Harvey." He makes mocking hand-sweeping and head-bowing gestures.

"In my book, everything is about me, kid." Harvey replies by waving a hand over himself. It's light and teasing. Mike's lips curve up in response. "So, come on, quit stalling and spill. Don't worry. I won't rat you out to your faculty. Office politics is beneath me."

"I figured you'd say something like that." Mike cocks his head and laughs. He snatches two slices of pizza and folds them together like a weird, unhealthy, pizza sandwich. Harvey makes a face at it but says nothing.

"It's INDSORG," Mike says, "Industrial Organization." He looks like he expects Harvey to already know what the course is about.

Harvey feels the need to correct him. "Kid, as much as I'm giving myself away here, I have no clue what the hell that even means. It's not in my department. We're pretty black-and-white about our expertise, except for the humanities folks in liberal arts. _That_ and course codes change nearly every time they get a new dept. chair."

"Oh," Mike wrings his hands together and blushes.

"Why don't you just tell me which parts you're confused about?" Harvey offers. He goes to fetch them a pitcher and two glasses.

"Okay," Mike agrees, "So... inter-market agents relations. I get the horizontal and the vertical perspectives. Kind of. But the conglomerate and network perspectives? I mean, am I supposed to believe that companies willing _share_ their corporate information with their competitors? Is that how it's supposed to go? Something doesn't fit."

Harvey rubs his forehead and sighs. "Give it here," he orders, pointing to the yellow pad that Mike's been doodling on, "Let's see where you got it wrong."

"What? Really?" Mike blinks in surprise.

Harvey just rolls his eyes. He points a finger, "Don't think you're getting this for free. You're getting laundry duty for the week for making work over time. _And_ work on something that's outside of my field." And even if he says so, there's no steel in his tone.

"Okay?" Mike replies, somewhat uncertain until the older man nods again. "Right, then. Yeah. Okay," he sputters, leans closer to where Harvey's slouched on the dining room table. Maybe it's the sleep deprivation, his nightmare, or the pizza, but he gets a whiff of Harvey's cologne and instantly feels a bit light-headed.

He forgets about his recent nightmare.

\---at least, for a little while.

***

They agree to not talk about the kitchen incident.

Particularly, the part where Mike found himself in Harvey's lap.

***

Monday morning comes in a haze.

Harvey stumbles, literally stumbles, into his office at eight in the morning.

"You're early," Donna notes with her eyes going comically wide. "Oh my," she adds moments later, " _Why_ are you early, Harvey?" Because she knows his calendar more than anyone and there's nothing on Harvey's calendar until his first lecture at nine am. He normally arrives just in time to log-in at the department biometrics.

"Something happened over the weekend," she deduces by the way Harvey has a bounce in his step. It's no ordinary bounce. The man is vibrating with energy at, and let her emphasize, _eight in the morning_.

"By gone you poser!" She shoes him with her old-school desk calendar. "You are way to energetic. Oh wait, what's that?" she points to the floor. "My god Harvey are you farting rainbows?!"

Harvey wastes no time in giving her an unimpressed look. "Playground jokes, really?" he cocks his head and smirks. "I thought we've moved on to more intellectual movie-related puns?" All his cylinders are pumping from the weekend of theoretical banter with Mike. He hasn't felt this mentally awake in ages.

"Oh wow," Donna says, eyes wide in surprise. "You _are_ in a good mood." She has to stop her teasing fanny to actually _stare_ at him. "Hot date over the weekend?"

"No," His smirk widens, "I thought you knew everything? What would the other secretaries say if they knew! The water cooler gossip mills will have a field day. Should I get a plaque to commemorate the day?"

In reply, Donna shucks an eraser to his head. Harvey dodges and it hits the wall behind him.

"Shut up and tell me," She order because, no, she doesn't beg. "You tell me _everything_! Even about the time in the faculty lounge where you snuck in with---" she doesn't finish her sentence because Harvey's hand clamps over her mouth.

"Hush!" he hisses without ruining the mood. "Fine, you win." He says, bringing up a finger in front of her face and a sends a warning look with his eyes. Donna responds by miming her lips closed with an imaginary zipper and throwing away the key. He nods and recounts the weekend's happenings. Her jaw is nearing the floor once it's over.

"Aww, aren't you sweet!" She coos, making a heart shape with her hands, "the puppy's growing on you! Is he the dog you never got as a kid, Harvey?"

Harvey scoffs at the thought. "No." He replies flatly. "As a matter of fact, I'll have you know that I _did_ have a dog when I was a kid."

"Oh, really?" Donna muses, unbelieving. She crosses her arms over her chest and hands him a thin manila envelope. "Next sem's suggested syllabi." She said, giving it to him. "Jessica wants you to go over it."

"Why can't she email like a modern person?" he mumbles to himself as he takes it. He's in a far too good a mood to argue over something that isn't Donna's doing.

"Because I prefer holding something in my hands rather than read it on a screen." a voice quips from the doorway.

Harvey turns, face twisted in like a naughty schoolboy. "Jesscia," he greets with a bow and a smile. He knows his current mood in contagious since she quirks her lips. "What do I owe this pleasure?"

"My, you're in a good mood." Jessica says, eye shooting a look to Donna. To which, the red-head merely shrugs her shoulders. "I came to talk to you about your new TA." she continues. "I need you to lend him out to Louis for a day."

"No," Harvey refuses flatly, "Mike's _my_ TA. Get Louis to bother some other professor's TA and tell him to stay away from my puppy."

"Harvey," She chides, "You're a grown-ass man. Time to start acting like it. He's one of the fastest readers that we have in the bullpen. Louis isn't going to meet his deadline with anybody else."

"Deadline for what exactly?" Harvey prods with interest. Because, no, he is not about to give _anyone_ free reigns over Mike without a good reason. If the weekend had been any indication, this isn't a good time to give the kid _more_ work.

"Our department journal, of course." She answers coolly. But there's a twitch in her eye that gives her away to her former TA.

Harvey narrows his eyes. "Why are you suddenly so invested in that embarrassing little thing?  You don't give two s---" and then, the dime drops on him, "oh, you're looking for externals linkages aren't you?"

Jessica's silence is answer enough.

"This isn't about Louis. It's about you. You're thinking about expanding our offered courses!"

"Yes," Jessica finally admits, "our department's fallen behind in student enrolees for the past two semesters. I will not allow the board to lower out funding because of it. It's for the department, Harvey. That budget is what we use to pay the students in the program. They'll be here by the end of the month. We won't be able to print with any other TA."

"Fine," Harvey agrees, albeit reluctantly. "Two days." He concedes.  "I don't want him failing any of his coursework and having another TA drop out of the program because of low marks."

Jessica gives him an inquisitive look at his last remark but says nothing.

***

Mike goes back to the bullpen in the morning and gets to work. Harvey is holding off additional work. Mike's mainly on data-gathering duty, looking into procuring raw data from big companies, but he's has little success so far. They had the mumbo-jumbo of corporate privacy thing. So, he's reduced himself to good ol' google for help.

He is  feeling all of those nights now. 

"Mikey," Louis' far too chipper voice come far too early in the morning. Mike groans in response, trying and failing to duck his head and pretend not to be there. "Aww," Louis catches him, "Don't be like that, Mikey-poo," he says, making heart breaking gestures with his hands.

"Louis," Mike greets in faux pleasantries, "What do you want? he asks rudely because he _does not_ have the patience to deal with Louis' alpha-lion pea-cocking. Right now, the accounting professor is being a gigantic cock more than anything else.

Louis pouty frowns. It's disgusting, really.

"I've come bearing gifts," he says with a not-so-innocent grin. Clearly, the man cannot comprehend the concept of subtly. He's wagging his eyebrows like Bugs-fucking-Bunny. All needed now is a neon sign.

 _Funny_ , Mike thinks, because he gets strapped up with more work every time he hears something along those lines. "Let me guess," he says with fake amazement, "it's not a mountain full of paper work that _you're supposed to be doing_ , right?"

Louis huffs. "No," he refutes, but the way he's nervously licking the back of his front teeth says otherwise. He visibly reigns in his jitters and holds his ground. "I am _not_ supposed to be doing these because I'm," he boldly gestures to himself, "a lecturer and you're," he gestures to Mike, "a TA."

Mike pointedly makes a face but says nothing.

"Lecturers, like mu-wah," Louis continues with his shirt French accent, "am supposed to _lecture_ and not waste my time re-checking their manual computations by hand. That's why you're here."

"I'm not sure about that, Louis, aren't professors supposed to, I don't know... educate?"

"That's what I said," Louis defends, scrunching his face, "lecture."

"Right," Mike folds. His phone buzzes on the table and he chooses to ignore it. He inwardly debates whether he can risk denying Louis' request. He is, after all, Harvey's TA. But then, he decides to twist things in his favour.

"I'm not sure that I can, Louis, that last time I did work for you, I got my ear shouted off in Harvey's office." he rubs his left ear dramatically, "I don't think I can hear quite right in this ear yet."

He sees Louis' face deflate and goes for the kill, "but maybe we can work something out?"

The effect is immediate and Louis' face lights up. "So you'll do it?"

Mike stalls for a few more seconds just to watch Louis squirm. "Sure," he eventually answers with a shrug. "But I need your help on something too."

"Okay," Louis agrees immediately. "As long as it's not breaking any school or department policy, of course. Ask away my young padawan."

"One, no, just no. Don't make star wars references, Louis. It doesn't suit you." Mike hides his grimace with a cough. "Two, I need the FS for these companies," he jolts down a quick list and hands it to Louis, "for the past ten years. But I'm not an accountancy major, so I don't have access to them." he half-lies.

In truth, he knew where to find them, but it's a tedious task to compile.

"You on the other hand," he says like he swooning, "are an accountancy professor. It should be no problem for you to get them, right? You can tell them it's for research. Please, Louis?" He add, the cherry on top of the cake. "It's for my advance courses." _for Harvey_.

Louis grins like he's got one up on Mike. "Sure thing, Mikey." He motions for the paper with two fingers. "Louis can get this for you, easy-peasy."

"Thanks, Louis." Mike grins back, "You're a pal. People just don't see the real you. "

Louis preens at the compliment. "Of course they don't,"  he tells Mike with a wink, "I'm playing the role of tyrannical supervisor so they know not to toe the line."

"Good job then," Mike says, fighting his urge to giggle and give his charade away. "What do you need me to work on?"

"Proofread these," Louis says, handing the small stack of papers over the cubicle. "Just do like you did the first article. You'll have to do the graphics on your own though."

Mike resolutely holds back his groan. Christ, this was gonna set back his study period for a day or two. "Whoopie," he says with sarcasm, "you bring me the _best_ work, Louis. You really do."

"Don't announce it to the world," Louis leans close and pats him on the shoulder. It took an effort for Mike not to move away and insult the man again. "Or others will think that I'm picking favourites." He doesn't even bother for Mike to answer him.

"Y--yeah," Mike says uneasily while making a face. "We _really_ don't want that." Again, his phone buzzes and just ran out of excuses to ignore it. He picks it up and sees Harvey's name on the display.

' _No work. 2 days. Lending you to Louis._ '

Oh, isn't he a lucky person.

***

" Louis," Jessica calls out, just as the man rounds the corner. "I--"

Louis brings up his hand to shush her.

Her eye brows furrow. "Did you just shush me?"

"Yes, I did," he says proudly, "I'm glad to report that Ross already agreed to proofread the articles _and_ I have Jimmy doing the mock-up for the layout. Well oiled team, Jessica, well oiled team. I told you that I'm good in a leadership position. I just needed the right pieces to the team."

"Right," says Jessica, "I'm glad to hear it, Louis."

Louis pats his own shoulder in front of her before walking away with a bounce to his step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know that we're in season 5 now. This (obviously) will not be sticking with the current canon. It's like the whole thing re-imagined into a university setting. Also, please be ready to an intentionally slow build between Harvey and Mike. While this story is written with Marvey in mind (and heart), it will take a few chapters before it gets there. So, for now, I hope you enjoy the dialogue between the characters (which I don't often do) and their development. 
> 
> Lots of love,  
> Arh


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I got my PC checked it in the center for HDD problems. I lost all my babies *cries*. Then, there was #MarveyWeek, so I was pretty occupied with that when I got my PC back. I typed this up while I was between classes in school. So, please, do tell me if I missed some typos and grammar. Thank you so much!

Harvey forgets the agreement with Jessica the very next day. “What is this?” he demands, double tapping the Finance Department mock-up, devoid of digital illustrations. Right now, it like a compiled set of articles rather than a newsletter-slash-magazine.

Louis, contrary to his own belief, is a _slave driver_. What he deems are _menial_ work is, in reality, the workload of three junior interns in a real publishing house. It helps that he’s a natural grammar Nazi. However, it doesn’t help that he’s completely inadequately skilled for pacing a newsletter properly. So instead of a cohesive, naturally flowing mini-zine, the draft reads like a poorly made high-school student’s coursework.

Mike’s going through one of the latter articles, highlighter in his mouth and pen in hand, as he skims the document. He takes a second before he answers Harvey. “Drafts for the department newsletter. You know, the thing that Louis is making me do.” He gibbered over the high lighter and a small trace of drool passed the corner of his lips.

“And _why_ are you doing work for Louis again?” Harvey asks, giving Mike an incredulous look.

Mike stops, grabbing the highlighter on the dry side, and returns Harvey’s look. “Because you lent me to him, remember?” He says, digging up his phone from the mountain of papers and scanning the message. “Here, look,” He says, filling the device and showing it to Harvey.

Harvey rolls his eyes, defeated. “Okay, new question.” He amends, lazily shifting over the papers. “How long until you’re done?”

“Why?” Mike asks, finishing up on the document.

“I need you for something,”

“Okaaaay…?” He is two articles away from finishing the thirty-article set. Then, he needs to recreate and inset Louis’ chicken scratch graphs on the final document. “Does that mean that you’re _not_ lending me out to Louis then? Because you need to tell me now. His drawings,” he leans in like a whisper, “are really, _really_ bad.”

Harvey snorts, “No, but nice try. Unfortunately, I remember promising Jessica to lend you out but you’re still my TA and I still have the last say about what work you will be doing.” He glances at his watch and thumbs over something on his phone, cursing. When he turns to Mike, he’s back to seriousness, “Finish that by eleven, and then meet me at Dino’s at lunchtime.”

“Whooptie-doo,” Mike _whoops_ with a sarcastic imaginary flag, “Free lunch.”

It’s Harvey’s turn for an eye roll. “Twelve o’clock, rookie.” He tells Mike, tapping on his watch as if to emphasize his point, “Don’t make me wait.”

***

At exactly half-past to twelve, Mike boots-down the PC and tidies up his desk. It does all that in five minutes and zigzags out of the bullpen at record speed. He merely give Rachel an apologetic looks when she calls out to him and mimes _I’ll text you_ as he passes by. Then, just when he thought the coast is clear.

“Mike,” Louis appears out of nowhere with a large toothy grin, “Perfect, I caught you! I need you to add these to the articles before we hand them over to the layout team.” He says, handing Mike a new stack of badly drawn graphs.

“Uh, r—right,” Mike stammers, shoving them all in his bag, “I’m going out to lunch first. Is that okay, Louis? I have until tomorrow to finish everything right?”

Louis nods, “Take all the time you need, Mike-y, as long as it gets done tomorrow.”

“Sure thing, Louis,” Mike makes a hasty nod and sprints for the door without looking. He immediately slams into the person entering the building through the same door. “Ompf!” he cries out as he falls flat on his ass. “What the--?”

“Mike? Mike, is that you?” A familiar voice greets him.

Disoriented, Mike groggily looks at the person he bumped into, eyes growing wide when he recognizes her. “Jenny!” He exclaims in both delight and surprise. It’s been a whole semester since he last saw her. A week before he took the test for Trevor. “What are you in the business building? Aren’t you in lit or something?”

“It’s Literature _and_ Advanced English, Mike, don’t tell me your forgot already!” She corrects him, her sweet grin still the same he remembers. “I’m actually looking for one of my gen profs for FINTROD. I couldn’t take a test last week ‘cause I caught the flu. She’s a faculty here. How about you? Switch majors already?”

“How could I forget? Jenny the future writer,” Mike replies with a grin. He shakes his head as he offers to help her stand up, “No, I haven’t switched still in Economics,” he tells her, “But I’m working as a TA for one of the professors in the Finance Department.”

“Oh great!” She beams, clapping a hand over his arm. “Then you can take me to Jessica Pearson’s office. I think she’s the current department chair!”

Mike checks his watch. He still had fifteen minutes. “Okay, sure,” he reluctantly agrees because there a small guilty part of him that feels bad for disappearing on her completely. Jenny, Trevor, and he were kind of a trio together with Jenny always settling the things between them.

He takes Jenny up to see Jessica but gets Jessica’s secretary Diane instead.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Pearson is away for lunch. You’ll have to send her an email for an appointment next time, miss.” Diane, a mature looking woman, tells Jenny. “Or I can set one for you if you’d like.”

“That will be great,” Jenny agrees with a smile.

Mike checks his watch again. He only has five minutes left. He’s really going to be late and piss-off Harvey. “Hey,” he gets her attention by tapping her shoulder, “I’m supposed to meet my boss at twelve. I’m sorry, but I have to run.”

“Aww, Mike,” Jenny pouts, giving him a hug, “I miss you so much! Trevor says you moved out but didn’t tell me why. You need to come over soon, okay? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Mike grimaces at the thought of Trevor. “Y—yeah,” he chortles uneasily, “I missed you too, Jenny, and I’ll try. I really need to go now.”

“Okay, take care, Mike,” Jenny says with a nod, leaning in to drop a kiss on her cheek.

“Diane!” Donna comes walking into the office without knocking, “Are you ready for—oh!” she gasps in surprise, eyeing Mike and Jenny. She carefully schools her face, hands folding over her chest, openly _judging_ them. “I didn’t know Jessica had a show going on in her office. Shame on you, Diane, for not telling me. I would have brought popcorn.”

“Donna!” Mike exclaims, jumping like a kid-caught away from Jenny, “This isn’t… this isn’t what it looks like.” He stammers, and his blush doesn’t help his case at all. It only makes her cat-like grin even wider.

“Sure, it’s not, Mike,” She says sarcastically, “and you weren’t here, _right_?” She winks exaggeratedly on the last word. Then she makes a _go on_ face, “Well?”

“I’ve got to go,” Mike sputters, then turns quickly to beeline for the door. He manages a quick, “See you around, Jenny” before he’s out the door. Running, to make it on time despite knowing that he won’t succeed.

***

Mike doesn’t expect a smiling, laughing Harvey when he enters the diner. It’s another one of the hole-in-the-wall paces that Mike’s been too much of a Grinch tor try-out. But, after gabbing breakfast there for his temperamental professor, he realized that it’s an _a-okay_ place to eat with good food at a reasonable price. That doesn’t mean he eats here often though.

“Mike!” Harvey calls out, from where he’s seated across another guy in a booth. “Get over here. I’d like to introduce you to someone.” He raises his hand in a blatant _come here_ motion, just like he would a dog, palms up and four fingers folding.

Mike has to pat down his sweaty palms against his pants before walking. There are two seats available. He can either take the one beside Harvey or beside the new guy. He really, really, doesn’t feel comfortable sitting beside Harvey. All that clothes to clothes contact makes him remember the encounter in the kitchen.

Harvey makes the choice for him by scooting over to the window and Mike slides right in. The booth feels a little cramped for two completely (well, one) grown man. Harvey’s hips, thighs, and knees are pressed against Mike’s underneath the table while their elbow keep rubbing together.

“Mike, this is Wyatt, a research buddy of mine.” Harvey introduces, “Wyatt, this my TA who is incapable of being on-time, Mike.” He says in a voice that sounds almost fond.

The men exchanges their hellos.

“Wyatt is in town for a congress down at Kennedy. I thought that you should meet since you’ll be helping with my next book. It’s easier to build trust when you’ve already meat each other in person.” Harvey explains, as their server serves their food.

“That’s it?” Mike questions, still slightly out of breath, “I get dragged here for some important business and it’s to just _meet_ someone? I mean, no offense intended, sir—”

“Wyatt,” Wyatt correct.

“Wyatt,” Mike amends, “and to what _eat_?”

Harvey looks at him as if he’s grown two heads. When, in reality, it should be _him_ looking Harvey as if the older man had grown two heads. “Is there anything wrong with that, rookie? This _is_ a diner, you know, where people come to eat?”

“Yeah, but,” Mike tries to protest but Harvey gives him a warning look.

“Don’t bother with the menu. We’ve already ordered. I got something for you too.”

“Uhm, well, okay,” Mike can do nothing but nod, “Thanks, Harvey. I can’t believe you ordered for me.”

“Well, if you weren’t so late then you could have ordered yourself,” Harvey chastises but it doesn’t have the usual tone that it had in the office. “And you are not to go back to the office until your plate is clean, are we clear?”

Mike barely stops the _yes, mom_ from passing his lips.

This was a causal lunch. A casual _working_ lunch which doesn’t seem to involve any work at all. And Harvey’s _feeding him_ again. Mike’s given a plate of buttermilk pancakes, sausages, beans, and eggs—the big brunch option on the menu.

“He can eat all that?” Wyatt asks, glancing doubtfully at the pile of food, “But he’s so … _skinny_.” He looks mournfully over his salad and side of potatoes.

“He can,” Harvey confirms with a nod, “then he’ll ask for pie. Mike’s stomach is like a bottomless pit.”

“Hey!” Mike protests, “I happen to be a growing boy, you know!” He feels like this whole thing was a repeat of the Zoe-brunch a few weeks ago. Except, there wasn’t any unwanted sexual innuendos coming from Wyatt. He’s thanking the gods for that. Because since the night in the kitchen, he’s been thinking about Harvey _differently_.

“And pie is a vital nutritional need for growing children, isn’t it Mike?” Harvey quips with an eye roll, picking up his roast beef sandwich, grease and a bit of dressing dribble down his arm. “It’s your fault for not eating breakfast, you know. If I didn’t feed you, you’ll fall flat on your face before your last class ends.”

“Well, who decided to hog the shower this morning?” Mike shot back around a mouthful of pancake.

“Who decided to sleep-in on a school day?” Harvey doesn’t miss a heartbeat, perfectly times just after swallowing, because he does not talk with his mouthful. “That’s what you get for cramming your coursework. Don’t do it again, or you’ll get kicked out of the program.”

“Yeah, yeah, article twenty, page four, I know.” Mikes waves it off. It was just a stupid 1-page, double-spaced essay, on the IS-LM curve. He could have done it easily if he wasn’t so tired from half a day of correcting articles. At least he can say that, grammatically, his essay is flawless.

“Wait, what?” Wyatt cuts in, catching the last part of the conversation, “How did you…? Did you remember that?” He asks, now looking at Mike as if here were a lab specimen under the high-powered microscope. “How did you remember that?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Harvey boasted, preening, “Kid’s got eidetic memory. It’s crazy convenient.”

“That’s…” Wyatt seems at a loss for words. He stops for a good minutes before continuing, “That’s amazing. Wow. That’ll make it so much easier to spot inconsistencies with the data this time! Harvey, we might actually get it to Zoe on time!”

“I know,” Harvey laughs with a nod, “I know. Isn’t he great?”

Even if Harvey was talking about his mind, somehow Mike cannot help but preen a little at the compliment. He hides his smile in his mug of coffee. He feels a lot like the master show piece that Harvey keeps trotting around the floor to show everyone.

He’s pleased by the thought.

A warm flood of butterflies flutter in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit slow. I'm sorry. I am given the tedious task of introducing my characters in this one. I hoped you enjoyed Wyatt. And Diane, oh! Hahaha. I cannot wait to write her! :)) 
> 
> Again, kudos and comments are well-appreciated. If you enjoyed this, I do wish you'd let me know~ They're nice picker-uppers when I'm in a stint. Toodles~

**Author's Note:**

> Do tell me your insights because your lovely messages in "[ **Hedge**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4952158show_comments=true#comments)" were motivating! I didn't expect that the fandom will like it.
> 
>  
> 
> [ **Got a prompt?** ](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/)


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